


heirlooms.

by j_whirl44



Series: Sasha Week 2021 [4]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28905108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_whirl44/pseuds/j_whirl44
Summary: Sasha had been wielding a dagger before she even really knew it was.Sasha Week - Day 5: Experiences
Relationships: Sasha Racket & Sagax
Series: Sasha Week 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112768
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: Sasha Week 2021





	heirlooms.

Sasha had been wielding a dagger before she even really knew it was. It was small, rusty, and smelled of fish. Which was fair, considering how it was found in a back alley behind a marketplace in Other London. She didn’t really know how to use it. She just liked to inspect it for the most part.

She’d twirl it between her fingers and spin it along her pointer fingertip. The blade was much too dull to actually cut anything let alone herself. She held onto it though, always in her boot, or under her pillow while she slept.

She kept that dagger for a very long time. By the time she remembered she still had it she was almost fifteen and well versed in the use of the instrument. Almost into her third year at that awful, awful institute and she’d picked up a thing or two about combat with the tiny blades here and there, despite her best efforts.

She snuck into the workshop late one night and took out the old broken thing, and little by little, she restored it. Made the blade shiny like new. Repurposed and resealed the hilt so it felt sleek and smooth when she moved it around her hand.

She made it sharp, actually picking her hand a few times while handling it, not used to it yet. She still kept it in her boot, and she still kept it under her pillow at night. It was a reminder of her childhood. A reminder of all things she lost.

She never really used it in combat. There was something too sentimental about it, she’d try but she’d just put it down.

Even more years passed and she’d all but forgotten about it. Until she found herself in Ancient Rome.

She was safe, as safe as she’d been in years, or months. Time was and has been so lost on her at this point.

She had her own room. With a functioning enough bed and an almost too soft pillow. She still slept with one eye open, and when she heard someone outside her window she clenched that dagger and ripped it out from under her.

Within an instant she was outside and in the shadows, pointing it at the alleged offender.

She hears a whimper and she looks down.

She locks eyes with a child, no more older than she was what she found this little weapon.

He looks up to her with so much fear in his eyes that her grip loosens up so much she drops it. The child follows it as it falls to the ground, but he doesn’t move. Instead he just looks back up to her.

There's a silence between the two of them and Sasha will admit she doesn’t really know what to do. She doesn’t have much experience with kids, and gods know the adult figures in her life weren’t anything to go off on.

She takes a small step back from the child and holds up her arms. She feels herself kneel down. Her knees aren’t what they used to be, but she ignores that for now.

“What’s your name?” she asks softly.

The child sniffles and avoids her gaze. “I don’t…” he pauses, “I don’t know,” he cries. It starts soft but it turns into a full on sob within seconds.

She freezes. To put things lightly, it is awkward for her. She never got this. She never got to really just cry, even as a child. She shakes her head as she lets a small flare of anger pass. She’s not that person now. She’s moved past that, but that doesn’t mean that from time to time she doesn’t get to resent it all for a moment.

She moves a little bit forward now, back where she was originally, and she slowly, tenderly, puts a hand on the child’s shoulder.

His meltdown settles a little at the contact as his sobs are cut off by a gasp. She smiles at him and it reaches her eyes. He sniffles for a few more seconds until he slowly starts to return a small smile.

The night air is quiet and cool and it helps settle the both of them. Once she’s sure he’s calmed down enough she removes her hand and looks down. She retrieves that silly old dagger that she really just can’t let go and holds it. The child scans it again and she grips it a little tighter.

“C’mon, mate. I’ll show you to a friend of mine. Okay. No more sneaking,” she says. The irony is not lost on her.

She begins to lead him to Cicero. When the child grabs for her hand she doesn’t deny him.

She didn’t know that night would lead to many more nights of wrangling children around the compound as she took each one of them. Gave them names and a place to sleep. To eat. To survive. To be kind.

She watches that first little boy grow up into a man. A wise one, worthy of his name. Stubborn as all hell sometimes, but that also doesn’t surprise her.

One night they’re alone in her office. Her office, she still can’t believe that. They’re sharing a drink as they look over papers.

He’s about to leave when she stops him.

“Sagax,” she says.

He stops and turns to face her. She takes that little dagger out of her boot and walks to him. She hands it over. “This is yours,” she explains.

He takes it gently, almost as if he’s afraid to crush it. He bits his lip, “What’s this for, boss?” he asks.

Her breath catches a little in her throat but she swallows it down. She shakes her head, “You earned it. I know it’s not much, but this daggers been with me a long time. Now it’s yours,” she says matter-of-factly.

Sagax doesn’t say anything as he puts the weapon away. He opens his mouth but closes it again and gives a nervous laugh.

“Get on then,” she says with a laugh of her own.

“Thank you,” he says softly as he exits.

She sighs and returns to her desk. She doesn't have the experience she needed to raise children, to teach them all the things she was taught, but she thinks she did it right. She did it better. And in the process she built something even greater than what was expected of her.

**Author's Note:**

> this went a different direction than i planed but hey
> 
> Thanks for reading; hope you enjoyed!


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